Overrun

by Michael Rusch

  She sensed the boy come and stand at her side. She felt his breath, apart from the others, breathe coolly across her face. And she felt his gentle skin brush faintly against her cheek.

  She stopped thrashing and hurtling her body about and allowed the soldiers to descend on her like a pack of wild apes

  She accepted what was about to happen as just and deserved for allowing the small boy to die down in the caverns alone in the dark. In the wild grasps of the jabbering men, her arms fell still in the warm night.

  * * *

  Only a few minutes had passed since Brandon had slipped through the barricades and soldier patrols back onto Beuford's streets. It was then he first heard the shrieks. A faint glow of light came from up the block and around the corner ahead.

  Stealing into the shadows of the surrounding storefronts, he moved quickly towards the sounds. The screams echoed louder through the empty roadways.

  He approached the corner and pressed his body firmly against a building that was slowly crumbling to the ground. He stuck his head cautiously around its side.

  Four men stood outside an empty jeep just a few feet further ahead. One, separated away from the main group, pulled out a cigarette and walked to the rear of the vehicle.

  Brandon brought his head slowly back from around the corner not yet able to see the source of the panicked shrieks. By now the sky was almost completely dark.

  Brandon ran to the rear of the decrepit structure he hid behind and carefully pulled down the ladder to the fire escape. Its ancient metal creaked quietly beneath his weight as he quickly climbed its rungs.

  When he reached the roof, he ran to the ledge and looked down. One man still smoked at the back of the jeep while three others struggled to wrestle a young girl writhing between them down to the ground.

  Brandon's breathing slowed and his muscles tensed when by the light of the jeep's headlights, he saw they were holding his sister, Mel.

  Brandon backed away from the ledge and ran to the opposite side of the building. He threw his legs over the edge and jumped.

  His body dropped through the air alongside the fire escape until his legs crashed across the hard metal of a trash dumpster. He leapt again and landed upright in the dusty street. He ran towards the men gathered around the jeep. Not once did his legs break their stride.

  Hidden well by the evening shroud of blackness, none of the soldiers saw him come.

  Almost nearing the back of the jeep, Brandon reached behind and unhooked the tire iron from his pack. The soldier standing there looked up only in time to see its hard metal come crashing into his face. The bones in his head buckled with a sickening crunch. The lit cigarette dropped lightly from his mouth.

  Brandon hurdled the soldier’s falling body and scrambled up the back of the jeep. He bounded across the length of the vehicle and out onto the hood. He pounced through the air across the backs of the soldiers and brought the tire iron down hard across the shoulder of the closest one.

  The soldier dropped to the ground and howled in pain. Another blow at the center of his throat quieted his cries. The other two soldiers let Mel's arms fall away and stepped back in stunned surprise.

  Brandon lunged at one of them and punched his fist into the center of his teeth. In the same motion with his other hand, he slammed the tire iron into the other’s knee.

  Mel rolled to her side slowly, but did not stand up. As if still lost somewhere in a trance, she only raised her head and looked away.

  Brandon stepped across her body still lying prone across the ground and swung his tire iron again at the soldier he had hit in the teeth. Jaw bones crumpled like paper beneath the blow. The soldier’s neck lurched back with a loud snap. His body fell sprawled and motionless across the jeep's hood.

  "Mel, get up!" Brandon screamed. "Get up!"

  The final man still standing in the group rushed Brandon from behind and grabbed him around his shoulders. Brandon ducked his body down and reached behind to grab the soldier around his head.

  The soldier slammed his fist into Brandon's side. With a surge of crazed strength, Brandon flipped him up and over. The soldier landed on his back at Brandon’s feet.

  Brandon snatched the assault rifle still hooked across the man’s shoulder and fired two rounds into the center of his chest. He then turned around and fired twice more into the body lying across the jeep.

  At the sound of the weapons fire, Mel scurried away to the back of the vehicle.

  Brandon turned slowly around to face the last soldier struggling to balance his weight across his shattered knee. Brandon took two steps toward him and lowered the weapon down to his side. He centered its tip across the soldier's chest.

  With a look of cold satisfaction behind his eyes, Brandon watched the soldier fall twice and then finally win his determined struggle to stand. When he was completely upright, Brandon fired three quick bursts into his chest.

  At the back of the jeep, Mel lowered her head into her arms and started to cry.

  Brandon dragged the soldiers’ bodies back to the jeep and piled them roughly inside. Blood from their open wounds immediately stained the jeep’s interior a dark red. Giant patches of the same color also marked where each had fallen dead in the sand.

  Brandon walked back to the rear of the jeep and held his hand out to Mel. Large bruises covered her arms and both sides of her face. A small fingernail cut ran across her left cheek.

  "C'mon," Brandon whispered his voice hoarse and cold. "Please get up. We’ve got to go."

  Mel took his hand and slowly stood next to him.

  "Over there," he instructed softly and nodded to the storefronts at the side of the street. “Go over there.”

  Mel didn't look at him or even speak. Her body moving almost mechanically, she turned her back and walked away.

  Still clutching the bloody tire iron in his fist, Brandon walked to the front of the jeep and reached towards the ignition switch inside. The exposed skin of his arm touched the warmth of what had once been the face of the soldier sprawled in the driver's seat.

  The soldier’s blood dripped across Brandon’s arm. He did not pull it away.

  He turned the key and roared the engine to life. Shifting it into gear, he walked next to it and steered it away from street’s center. When he had guided it around the building's corner into a darker alley, he switched off the engine and waited for it to roll gently to a stop.

  When it had completely stopped, he rolled his sleeves back up to his elbows and roughly pulled at the men's pockets until he found a pack of matches. He ran to the back of the jeep and snatched a spare fuel container secured behind the rear seat.

  He quickly emptied its contents across the grim remains of the four men and threw the empty container across their laps. He lit the match and started to back away. After taking a few steps, he threw the match into the backseat and turned to run.

  Within seconds, a surge of fire consumed the jeep making the dark alley seem as bright as the sun-scorched day.

  Brandon set his teeth in a straight line and watched the flames consume the dead within. Mel stepped next to him from the shadows and joined him in watching the blaze.

  She reached over to his bloody hands and gently took the tire iron from his grip. Brandon didn’t look at her. He continued only to stare at the fire. Mel opened her fingers and let the tire iron drop softly next to them along the ground.

  Both stared intently into the flames. Neither flinched or even looked away when the fuel tank exploded in a violent ball of fire.

  With their hands at their sides, they stood rigidly still and watched them burn.

  Chapter 27

  The elevator chimed softly when its cabin touched the ground floor. Its light unobtrusive tone was lost amidst the wails of sirens and the shouts of stampeding soldiers. Smaller explosions from the top of the building rocked the facility further adding to the mayhem.

  The elevator doors rolled gently open. As they did, Kirken dove to the floor. For the moment, no one not
iced him at the bottom of the cabin.

  He stayed there several minutes watching the panicked throngs of soldiers running through the armory halls. When the doors began to close back shut, Kirken stood slowly and stepped carefully outside.

  He had moved only partway through the doors when a heavy strafing of bullets shredded the elevator wall just above his head.

  “Son of a bitch!" Kirken screamed and hurled himself back onto the elevator deck. He snatched his Sunszk weapon from its holster and opened fire into the hallway. A group of guards shoved their way through the panicked personnel jamming the hallways and rushed towards him.

  Kirken kept his finger across his weapon's trigger and continued to fire.

  His shots dropped the frontmost soldier before he reached the elevator, but scores of others charged from behind to replace him. The soldier’s body was quickly swallowed up and trampled by the scared crowd running through the halls.

  Kirken continued firing. A barrage of exploding slugs tore into a fire extinguisher mounted on the corridor wall just above his head sending a spray of white foam into the hallway.

  Kirken rolled forward into the layer of cold froth along the ground. Constant fire roared from his weapon. He squirmed beneath the cover of the thick white substance and squinted to see through the stinging pain it brought to his eyes.

  Three more soldiers almost upon him jerked back at the suddenness of their open wounds and fell to the floor. Those following at their backs ducked behind doors and around corners to escape Kirken's fire.

  Kirken slithered through the blanket of foam like a giant white snake away from the elevator cabin.

  He stood and ran down the corridor to his right while holding his weapon over his head and shooting blindly behind his back. Giant clumps of white foam flew away from his feet with each step. The corridor walls behind him obliterated and crumbled down in violent spurts. Exploding weapons rounds from his attackers traced a path at his feet and ripped the floor up around him.

  Kirken turned another corridor and sprinted deeper into the building. His legs churning faster and his breath coming in panicked hurried gasps, he searched frantically for any way to get out.

  The building shook again as another of his explosives detonated on one of the floors above. Debris rained down in front of the hallway windows and showered the outside area in crumbled concrete and broken glass. The corridor lights blinked out leaving the hallways completely dark.

  Kirken swore again and continued to run. He looked quickly at the timer on his wrist. The remaining charges he had left in the elevator were a few short seconds away from arming to explode.

  If he was to escape, it would have to be now.

  He sprinted towards the end of a long hall past three giant windows that showed the effects of his work in the outside compound. Dismembered bodies, building debris and broken weapons were strewn about. Most of the courtyard was either smoking or on fire. Shattered glass and brick continued to drop steadily from the air above.

  The sounds of soldiers still chased at his back. Kirken stopped, whirled around and let loose another barrage of rifle fire down the hallway. His pursuers again dove around corners and dropped to the ground to avoid the new weapons burst.

  This gave him time to holster his hand weapon and sling his rifle across his back. He snatched a chair lying overturned in the hall and wielded it awkwardly in front of him like a battering ram. Ducking his head behind its seat, he charged at the largest of the plate glass windows that separated him from escape to the outside.

  Sprinting across the room, he was almost to the glass when a hand appeared from nowhere and latched itself across his throat jerking his head backwards. His legs flew out from beneath him, and he fell roughly across his back onto the floor.

  The chair flew away from his hands and slid beneath the feet of another chasing soldier. It tangled around his legs and knocked him to the ground.

  Kirken seized the left boot of the man who had grabbed him and twisted his ankle savagely to the side. He felt the crunch of snapping bone in his hand, and the soldier fell down hard to his knees next to him.

  The other fallen soldier further away untwisted himself from the chair and snatched out his sidearm. In a quick blinding flash, he squeezed off two shots at Kirken's head.

  The first bullet sliced lightly across the edge of Kirken’s skin barely a few inches short of tearing out his left eye.

  Kirken rolled across his side. A new blanket of blood cascaded down his face. He whipped around his own sidearm and pumped the trigger twice.

  Kirken’s first shot ripped open the soldier's throat. The second buried itself into a deep bloody hole in the center of his chest. The soldier’s eyes rolled up into his head before he fell to the floor.

  Kirken turned to sprint away. But not before the remaining soldier leapt on top of a nearby table and dove at him from overhead knocking Kirken's weapon from his grasp.

  The force of the soldier’s weight crushed Kirken heavily to the floor. Sprawled across Kirken’s back, the soldier reached around and grabbed him by both ears. Using them like handles, he slammed Kirken’s head down across the broken sections of concrete that surrounded them.

  His senses violently dazed, Kirken squirmed beneath the man’s heavy weight trying to escape his grip. He shifted over on his side and was met by a large knuckled fist ramming itself into the bridge of his nose. The pain from the newest shattered bone robbed him momentarily of his sight.

  Kirken clawed out blindly for the hands that held him when suddenly they just let go.

  Kirken hauled himself up to his knees only to tumble backward again when the soldier slammed a second punch into his damaged shoulder socket. Kirken felt his eyes roll to the back of his head, and then the world went black again.

  But not black enough that he didn’t sense the soldier draw back and deliver another blow. Kirken felt his mouth open wide in shrieks of pain, but he did not hear his own tortured sounds.

  What he did hear and feel was the dull snap of his upper arm. A splinter of damaged bone jutted slightly from his skin. It then fell limply to his side.

  The soldier shoved him roughly backward onto his back and raised his boot again across his shoulder. Through the horrific haze of pain, Kirken raised his head and dully watched the next blow come.

  He allowed his muscles to relax and lowered his head in defeat when a second explosion tore through the building and toppled the soldier to the floor. More sections of the upper building tumbled from the sky on the other side of the large windows.

  His eyes stinging and his body tortured with the pain of shattered bone, Kirken kicked the weapon the soldier had dropped across the floor out of reach. In the next instant, large pieces of concrete tore loose from the ceiling and buried it completely in rubble.

  The entire facility was beginning to crash down around them.

  Kirken jumped to his side to avoid an avalanche of debris and the lunging arms of his attacker. The J.G.U. soldier did not move in time and fell pinned beneath the falling wreckage.

  Two large sections of concrete held the left side of his body to the floor. Other than the breaths coming from his body, the soldier didn’t move as the effects of the explosion settled about the facility.

  Kirken stood and picked up a piece of the fallen ceiling. He walked to the fallen soldier and raised it over his head. Before he was able to swing, the soldier ripped himself loose and pounced up like an angry wounded animal trying hard to stand.

  Kirken smashed the concrete against his face bringing a sickening crunch from the top of his skull. The soldier's body lurched away and fell backward toward the ground. But he did not remain there for long before dragging himself back to his feet.

  Kirken stood in front of him holding the concrete and waited until the soldier stood completely up.

  Kirken then stepped closer. Rage, hate and a merciless darkness filled the air between the lock of their eyes. Both their faces dripped with blood and sweat. Not dropping his st
are, Kirken swung his arm and hit him again with the concrete.

  A large cut opened across the soldier's eye, but this time he did not fall. He stood motionless before Kirken and slammed his fist into Kirken's dangling limp arm.

  This time Kirken's didn't even scream. The walls of the crumbling room swirled around him as his body tumbled across the falling rubble.

  The burst of misery was short-lived, and he was able to roll onto his stomach and find his feet while more soldiers sprinted into the room.

  The soldier ducked to the ground, while Kirken scrambled to dive beneath a desk near the far window port. Automatic weapons fire ate up the air around him and splashed across the fallen concrete that littered the room.

  Kirken fumbled for his rifle still hanging from his shoulder and fired two short bursts at his bloody and battered opponent lying across his stomach. The shots tore hungrily through the uniform and flesh along the length of his back.

  The new soldiers inside did not flinch or fall. New gunfire bursts from their weapons shredded the crumbled concrete around him. Kirken hurled his body through the air and landed behind two large metal desks.

  Giant clouds of smoke billowed into the room from the hallway partially hiding him from the soldiers’ view.

  Cradling his shattered arm and crawling on his good hand and knees, Kirken made his way to the window and looked quickly down. Escape to the outside hills was a three-story drop and a short sprint away.

  If he didn't survive the fall, he felt comfort knowing he would die having won the fight.

  He backed away from the window through the smoke and slowly stood. He dropped his rifle. Holding his broken arm with his good hand, he ran at the glass.

  The force of his body and the strength of his undamaged shoulder shattered its thick surface while bullets exploded around him. He sailed through the air along with the building's falling debris toward the flames along the ground.

  Before his body met the earth, the last of the explosives he set in the elevator finally went. The remaining floors of the old bank transformed into an angry giant fireball. Jolts of heat and sharp fingers of flame seared through its roof and gutted its sides piercing the night sky like lightning.